


Burning City Soul

by Nightwing_Mar



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Dick Grayson, BAMF Jason Todd, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Getting Together, Handcuffed Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Opposites Attract, Slow Burn, Spells & Enchantments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-14 15:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29793963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightwing_Mar/pseuds/Nightwing_Mar
Summary: “You love him despite the burden of Atlas resting on his shoulders,and he loves you despite the death still clinging to your lips, and the blood drying at it’s corners.What a pair you make.” He sneered in a low-pitched sound, voice dripping with sinister intentions.In the middle of Halloween night, Dick and Jason have an unexpected encounter with a sorcerer who bewitches them in a very bizarre way, one way or another, binding their lives together in more ways than one.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 8
Kudos: 45





	Burning City Soul

**Author's Note:**

> My head is full of dumb ideas and this came out one morning and I was like, hell, why not? Carpe Diem. And here we are fellas. It’s a cute, silly story that has a lot of meaning if you look at it closely.
> 
> The poem is from a beautiful person named lhzthepoet who gave me permission to share it, is named “The Greatest Lovers In Hell”. You can check other poems [here.](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/view/lhzthepoet)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let’s start at the beginning, shall we?

Nightwing had no idea how he kept finding himself in these kinds of situations, but in his self-defence he was just doing his job, for Chrissake.

Things had escalated very quickly in something like lightspeed kind of speed. All he remembered was that at one-point between 10:44 and 11:00 of the night, Oracle had asked him to go investigate an old factory near the docks for the sighting of strange sparks of light coming from the multi-storey old building. Available and ready to call it a night, he had made his way to the pier, näively assuming that perhaps it would be a false alarm or something minor.

The thing was, Nightwing hadn’t expected to find a man dressed in a golden robe with eyes of a bright yellow shade —yellow, of all colours— doing some kind of ritual amidst dead animals and strange symbols draw on the concrete floor. He hardly had had time to request for back-up (which now in retrospect, may well have been his worst mistake) when the man was already on him, more or less baring its teeth with those devilish yellow eyes shining in the building’s dim light.

The resemblance to an owl sounded quite appropriate, now that he thought about it. And not even a cute owl, no, it was more like a barn owl.

Nightwing wasn’t a person to be scared easily, god no, but when the man snarled something in a foreign language, he couldn’t simmer down the jolt of fear that ran through his veins when the factory dropped in temperature, making his teeth clatter and steam come out of his mouth. Curiously though, his back-up chose that precise moment to burst through a window in a red and black blur. Nothing less than spree shooting. Which, yeah, kinda to be expected. Shoot first ask later, was Red Hood’s theme.

Ironically, Nightwing shouldn’t even be here.

He should be in Blüd tending his own business, much more on this time of year. Halloween night was used to do naughty things and Gotham rogues never missed an opportunity to spread fear and chaos despite the Bat-clan shadow over the city. But Dick had promised Damian a sleepover full of candy, junk food and carving pumpkins (not peculiarly in that order) and for that single reason, he was back in Gotham for the weekend.

Now it seemed though that the plans for that long-awaited sleepover had to wait now that the sorcerer (or chaos entity, or wizard or whatever) had quite literally beaten them to a pulp and there was no way in hell Dick was gonna stand up anytime soon. Besides, it wasn’t like he could, not when the sorcerer (proclaimed himself by the name of Krafeus), had cast a spell on both Jason and him and then buried them under three stories of the old factory; completely and utterly wrecked.

“I think I broke something.”

Nightwing wheezes, trying to see past the black spots that were appearing in his line of vision. Had he fainted? Probably.

Red Hood groans alongside him, and by the sound of, he disables his helmet defenses to toss it unceremoniously aside. Not that it served him much anyway, as his famous red helmet have been cracked when the building collapsed on them. Nightwing wonders for a moment why he wasn’t using the night vision on his domino mask, then he notices it wasn’t working. He retracts the white lenses, trying to accustom his eyes to the darkness.

“You’d think?” Jason takes a deep breath and then he groans again when he shifts. “Or you’re sure?” His voice sounded husky, thicker than usual. Dick concentrates on making a mental list of his injuries. There was something wrong with his right wrist. A heat was spreading through his skin, like a kind of tingling. The rational thing to think about was that maybe it was broken, but the feeling was strange, almost like something was clutching his wrist. Dick chooses to ignore the sensation, fixing his attention on what other parts of his body were hurting, which were quite a few. Ribs, ankle, shoulder. His head was throbbing and it felt almost like it was stuffed with cotton candy.

“I think I’m about to pass out.” Nightwing finally concedes.

Had he hit his head or something?

The lack of moisture in his mouth and wooziness were indicators that something was off. His stomach was making flips and his whole body was off-axis, like he’s been on a roller coaster and currently found himself stuck upside down. Yeah, definitely a concussion. Vertigo was making itself present and Dick just wanted to take a nap.

Oh, something was sliding down his temple. Was it raining? No, they were buried. Sweat, maybe?

With his left hand, Dick touches the strange substance over his face, it was sticky and warm. Then he remembers there was someone next to him. Jason, Jason was stuck with him. They both were buried under three stories of the building, and Jason was talking. Ouch, his whole body ached, and there was this smell, smell of smoke and dust so heavy that Dick could barely breathe. A gloved hand taps his cheek somewhat roughly, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Don’t you dare take a nap now, dickhead. We gotta get outta here and catch the motherfucker—”

A few seconds of silence hang and then out of the corner of his eye he can see Jason’s form looming over him. Dick could barely see his face, but he was pretty sure there was a scowl there. He hadn’t been the one to throw the building on them nor the inciter of the conflict, why was Jason mad at him?

A little voice reminds him though that Jason had the habit of radiating anger when he was uneasy. Something like projecting his insecurities into other feelings to hide how he really felt. It was a response to feeling threatened, Dick knew. But reading Jason was such a difficult task, cause usually what Dick thought the other man was feeling was the opposite of what was actually going through that head of his. That thick skull.

“—who the hell knows what spell he cast on us, and I don’t want to fuckin’ find out when on top of that, we’re stuck here.” Oh, Jason had kept talking. It was time to pay more attention, but his tone of voice was too hostile. It made his head throb even more.

“Why are you yelling?” Dick asks instead, and maybe Jason wasn’t yelling, but his ears were ringing, and everything sounded like it was echoing. Why was it in echo?

“I’m not yelling, you idiot. Stop playing stupid and make yourself useful.” Jason makes that wrinkle with his forehead which indicated he was exasperated. Well, that makes two of them.

“Like how?” He wasn’t following him, for some reason he couldn’t. Jason makes a noise of despair and jabs a finger at Dick’s chest. 

“I don’t know, maybe turn on your beacon for someone to come and get us out of here! Geez, did you hit your head or something?”

“Indeed yes, genius.”

“That’s all we needed on top of getting crushed by a building, now I gotta deal with your stupid concussed ass.”

Jason swears while he searches for something in the gear of his armour, meanwhile, Dick feels his right hand being tugged but ignores the feeling, rather focussing on Jason’s overshadowed face. There was a cut on his cheek, and Dick feels the need to bring his hand to his face, but he stops midway, doubtful. Jason was very upset, and when he was like this he didn’t react well to physical contact. Well, Jason never reacted well to physical contact even when he wasn’t in a bad mood. Besides, why should Dick be nice to him? Jason was being rude when Dick had a horrible headache and his whole body hurt and everything was pitch-black—

As if reading his thoughts, Jason pulls out of his gear a small flashlight and shines it around them. With more clarity, Dick can get an eyeful of their surroundings. There was a large chunk of what used to be the roof over their heads, and it had been luckily stopped by a column of the factory, preventing them from being crushed to death by all the building rubble.

Which was good news but also bad news. How were they going to get out of here?

“This is all your fault,” Jason mumbles under his breath once he’s done examining their situation and probably coming to the same conclusion as him. Irritation doesn’t take long to bubble up inside Dick because this wasn’t _his_ fault. It wasn’t like Dick was looking to be bewitched and buried under brinks on a daily basis.

“And why is it my fault?” His tone comes out more petulant that he intended and Jason shifts next to him, clearly fuming by now.

“You brought me here!”

“I certainly didn’t. You were the one who decided to come to my aid, remember?” Dick argues back. “You might as well have ignored me; it’s not like you don’t do it often anyway.” He mumbles the last, but for the way Jason tildes his head, he heard.

“Because I was the closest to your location, asshole. Don’t flatter yourself, _dick_.” Dick lets out a humorous laugh that unconsciously makes his ribs ache, but in the heat of the moment, he ignores it.

“Sure, and that’s why you got here in less than three minutes, isn’t it? How convenient.”

Jason clenches his jaw but says nothing, and Dick smirks haughtily. It’s then that Dick scolds himself for arguing with Jason instead of focusing on some plan to get out of here. The air quality was getting worse with the smell of smoke and dust and Dick was trying hard not to cough. Not to mention that the feeling of being buried wasn’t a good one, neither should it be for Jason who could be triggered by bad memories.

Oh, right, the comms. The others must be about to finish their patrol and could be in the area, it wouldn’t take them long to come.

The idea of asking for help didn’t sound very good, but it was time to put his pride aside for a moment. Dick didn’t have the strength to sit up, what to say about trying to make his way to the surface with bruised ribs, a possible broken wrist, a sprained ankle, maybe a sprained shoulder, a concussion, and worst of all, a pissed off Jason. _No thanks._

He didn’t feel in his best state of mind to try to fend himself out of this den.

“I’m gonna ask for some assistance, ‘kay?” Dick says in a soft tone of voice, feeling the urge to argue suddenly fade. He just wanted to get home and flop on the couch or any soft surface and sleep three whole days.

“Marvelous,” Jason mumbles bitterly but doesn’t try to stop him or complain anymore. However, when Dick tries to reach his hand into the comm on his ear, he feels the tension of his hand pulling against something. Curious, Dick jerks his right arm hard and Jason yelps startled, almost falling on top of him. “What the fuck did you just do!?”

Dick blocks his voice feeling imaginary spiders running down his arms and the arch of his back, uncertainty settling in the pit of his stomach. Gathering strength from who knows where Dick struggles to sit up and snatches the flashlight from Jason. He doesn’t think twice before bringing the light towards his wrist and even before he sees what it’s about, a small part of him already knows it when Dick hears the metal links rattle against one another.

When his eyes fall on his wrist it’s just to confirm it.

His wrist wasn’t broken, as Dick had at some point suspected. Instead, he finds a piece of metal very similar to handcuffs, and under a deeper inspection, he realizes that there is actually a handcuff attached to his wrist. It had a golden colour, like gold, almost gleaming with the pale light. Dick blinks dumbfounded and follows with his gaze the links connected to Jason’s other wrist. Holy shit. 

Someone better pinch him to wake up from this nightmare.

“Why the fuck is there a handcuff on my fuckin’ wrist?” Dick gulps and then waves his hand, making Jason pay attention. His face falls, literally, as if a puppy has been kicked right under his nose. “You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me.”

It doesn’t take Jason a second to search the pockets of his cargo pants, probably looking for some tool to pick the lock (in case there’s one). Dick tries to examine the almost gleaming handcuff around his wrist, but there was no lock whatsoever. It looked like a mundane cuff, but there was no way to ignore the strange way it glowed. The chain connecting Jason’s cuff and his looked so thin, but Dick was sure it was stronger than it looked.

With a breath of relief, Jason finds what he was looking for (a tension wrench and a feeler pick, which okay, better safe than sorry) and jerks his hand, trying to pick the lock of the handcuffs. When he finds none, Jason curses and pulls some cutting pliers from his brown leather jacket. Seriously? Does Jason carry that shit everywhere?

After three unsuccessful attempts to break the chain to no avail, Jason quits.

And for some reason, Dick still doesn’t fathom what that means.

“It’s a magical handcuff,” Dick blurts out foolishly. “What else could it be?”

“No shit, Sherlock. Did you use all your brainpower to figure it out?” Jason scoffs bitterly and Dick doesn’t have the energy to give a comeback or some snappy retort.

“I don’t understand. Why would he do that?” Dick mumbles under his breath, unable to fully grasp the situation because it made absolutely no sense. The information reaching his brain wasn’t being processed as it should.

“How should I know, dumbass? Why don’t we go and ask him? Oh, right, we’re buried under a fuckin’ building! How could I forget?” This time Jason snarls and the sound echoes in the little gap where they both were. A stab of pain makes him close his eyes. “There’s no way out and now we’re chained and probably fucked!” Dick lets Jason curse the sky and the whole world and when the man cools down a bit, Dick gives him a worn-out look.

“Are you done?” _Aren’t you tired of cursing the whole world?_ _Do you still have the energy to be this upset with something that might not be our fault?_

“Fuck you, motherfucker, how can you be so unruffled?” Jason replies with fire in his eyes and something in Dick wants to howl with that same ferocity.

“Unlike you, airhead, I know that yelling and cursing won’t solve anything!” Dick snaps back cuz Jason was speaking very loud and very close to his face and that wasn’t helping at all with their problem or with his migraine.

“Okay genius Buddha, enlighten me. How are we goin’ to solve this?”

Jason snatches the flashlight from him and gives him a sour look. Dick takes a deep breath, which irritates his injured ribs, and after a few seconds, he regains a cooler head. It wasn’t time to argue like a pair of fools. They had to be smart, and they had to hurry if they wanted to find a clue to the sorcerer’s whereabouts as soon as possible and thus be able to interrogate him, and in the best case, make him undo whatever it was that he had done.

With a lot of willpower, Dick ignores their current handcuffs-spell-situation and speaks in a calm voice.

“One step at a time, we can take care of the rest when we get out of here, okay? The priority is to get out of this place, and only then will we focus on the other stuff.” 

Jason only huffs but doesn’t say anything else, so Dick takes his silence as a yes. Using his left hand, Dick reaches out to his communicator and taps it twice, clearing his throat. Thank goodness the line wasn’t dead.

Why have they wasted so much time arguing instead of asking for back-up?

There is always something with Jason that makes Dick off-balanced, and he doesn’t even seem to make an effort doing it. He has a way to get under his skin like no one had ever managed.

“Nightwing to whoever can hear me, _huh_ , Red Hood and I have a... situation and we require assistance. ASAP.” There are a few minutes of white-noise static and Dick feels his heart pounding roughly. What if they couldn’t hear him? What if they were busy? What if something else had happened? All those doubts run through his mind until he can hear a beep coming from the communicator. Somebody heard him. Dick almost cried with relief.

“Batman to Nightwing. What is the situation?” Crap. Dick had hoped that anyone else but Bruce would answer, but there was no time to be picky, right?

“Hello there, B,” Dick starts saying awkwardly. “Uh, I don’t know if you were aware but Oracle sent me to examine a strange-looking building near the docks and it turns out that I stumbled upon a sorcerer or something like that, and Red Hood came to my aid but then the sorcerer—”

“Nightwing, get to the point. Do you require extra assistance? Is there a problem?”

“Uhh, yeah, actually there is. We are buried under an old industrial factory—” There is a pause of a few seconds where Batman doesn’t say anything. “But we are surprisingly… alive. Good news, huh?” That seems to get Batman out of his initial surprise and he immediately replies.

“Robin and I are culminating an armed robbery at Gotham bank, we are 15 minutes from your location. How bad was the collapse? Are any of you injured?”

“Hmm, I don’t see any way out. Well, it’s not like we’ve moved much, but there is a lot of rubble,” Dick explains quickly. “And as far as possible, we are fine, but—”

“And the sorcerer who caused this, where are its whereabouts?” Dick feels a twinge of irritation, as if that was more important than their current situation. Dick wasn’t sure if the building could collapse further, he didn’t know if he and Jason were safe in that little triangle of life that had formed. Just when Dick was going to say something rude, Jason out of nowhere takes the communicator from his ear and plugs it in his, a scowl on his handsome face making his features look rougher.

“Dammit, are you deaf? We’re under a fucking building and we need a fucking hand, yesterday. Leave the stupid questions for later, old man!”

As Jason argues with Bruce, Dick slowly tries to propel himself up, observing with great satisfaction that despite being buried between debris there was some room to move at least crawling. If what he was seeing farther ahead resembled a path, maybe they could crawl out on their own. That didn’t mean it was gonna be fun in their sore state, but at least they could start to cover more ground towards freedom.

Dick groans when he moves his neck too far to the right and his head starts buzzing earnestly, right, concussion.

Besides the concussion and the small space, Dick couldn’t move as he would have liked because at some point the chain prevented him from getting too far from Jason. The length of the chain was about 10 links, not the usual length of regular handcuffs, but it’s not like Dick was gonna complain.

He didn’t want to take his mind to that problem at hand, pun intended. Just thinking about it made his stomach twirl even more. How is it that Dick had not puked yet went beyond himself.

“Don’t yell in my fuckin’ ear demon spawn!” Jason barks and then yanks Dick’s chained hand back to its original place. Dick has no choice but let Jason manoeuvre him to sit next to him again. He says nothing, biting his tongue to avoid picking out a fight. “I already told you that we are safe and sound, you little shit.”

“Let me talk to Damian,” He demands extending his left hand towards Jason, who ignores him blatantly. “Jason.”

“I don’t care who comes, but you need to move your asses now. This thing can collapse any time soon,” Jason makes an irritated face and then finally looks up at Dick. With the flashlight, Jason shines it on Dick’s face and Dick closes his eyes with a pained grunt. Light sensitivity, great. “And Dickie’s got a concussion, so he won’t do me any good here. He’s a burden.” He puffs an offended breath. _Was that comment really necessary?_

“In all seriousness? Can’t you stop being a jerk?”

Jason gives him a lopsided smirk and in a rather unexpected tender act, he uses his teeth to peel off the glove from his right hand. When his hand is bare, he reaches it towards him and he gently touches Dick’s temple with an experimental touch. Dick stares at him baffled but Jason doesn’t look back at him. He moves his thumb over the skin at his hairline, probably looking for the bump, and it feels almost like a caress. Dick’s brains were about to meltdown, melt and drip like ice cream on a hot summer day.

He must be imagining this because there’s no way Jason would have initiated the physical contact willingly. Maybe now he’s hallucinating things. What’s next? Imagine Zitka seated in the darkness?

“Nah, Goldie isn’t in danger of dying, but he has a lot of blood on one side of his face, which doesn’t look pretty.”

After a moment, he moves his hand away, and Dick tries to not make any sound of complain by the absence of his warm touch. Trying to hide his reaction, Dick brings his left hand to his face and indeed can feel the sticky blood. Heck, his overprotective family probably won’t let him go so easily. Oh, but it’s Halloween night, Dick suddenly remembers. The sleepover with Damian, that’s why Dick is originally back in Gotham.

How could he forget it? Dick was going to teach Damian the noble art of carving pumpkins. There was no way Dick was gonna miss something this important to Damian’s formation as a member of society—

Jason snaps his fingers in front of his face, snapping him out of his thoughts again.

“Hey, are you with me, Birdbrain?”

“Yeah?” That didn’t sound convincing at all. Dick clears his throat and tries again. “I mean, yeah.”

“Pay attention, dummy. They’re already on their way, but we need to try to catch up with them halfway out of this hole. You think you can do it?”

“Obviously. Do you think you can do it?” Dick tosses back the question and Jason rolls his eyes.

“Sure, I’m not the one with a concussion.”

“With or without it I can handle myself quite well, thanks for asking.” Jason huffs and looks away awkwardly. They were both pros at compacting their emotions and putting them in small boxes, throwing the key away until it was strictly necessary to deal with them. Meanwhile, they could pretend that everything was okay, piece of cake.

“Anyway, we need to crawl and it’s not gonna be an easy task. We have to be coordinated, okay?” Jason places the flashlight in his mouth and gives him a terse look. Dick lets out an exaggeratedly heavy sigh.

“Lead the way, Jay.”

They spend a long time crawling on brinks, glass, broken concrete and other stuff. Good thing that their knees and hands were protected by their gloves/gauntlets, suits and armour, otherwise they would be even more scraped. His ribs weren’t happy though. Every deep breath and shifting caused more ache. Jason was in pain too; Dick could see that he was putting more weight on one arm than the other and the cut on his cheek still bled a bit, but both would rather eat dirt than admit they were in pain.

Tiredness doesn’t take long to catch up with Dick, his body felt heavy and ready to crash, but Jason wasn’t stopping, so neither was he. As there was nothing to talk about, both of them were practically crawling with dead-serious faces and grunts of pain barely concealed from time to time. And maybe above all Dick was terribly bored. What was he supposed to say to break the ice? That the situation was getting out of hand? Ha-ha.

After what feels like hours (couldn’t have been more than 13 minutes) they reach the narrowest part of their improvised path. Both of them couldn't fit through the small passage, that was obvious. Jason brings his hands to the piece of concrete in front of their faces, therefore Dick must also stretch his hand, which makes him groan when he must support his weight on one hand.

“It seems we reached the end of the road. Unbuckle your seat belts, ladies and gentlemen.” Dick comments silly and Jason chuckles. The sound echoes off the walls and Dick finds himself enjoying the sound. Jason is not a person who laughs a lot (at least not with him) but when he does, it is something special.

“I hope that’s not literal, Dickiebird.” Dick makes a sound between a laugh and a groan and decides to sit, his body properly knackered. “You’re OK?” Jason asks after a moment, his expression sincere. It may well be the first time Jason has looked directly into his eyes all night.

“I’ve had better days, but as far as possible I’m okay. You?”

“I’m doing fine. I’m not the one who’s bleeding. How’s your head?”

Instead of answering, Dick says sarcastically, “Peachy. I could throw up on you.” This time Jason lets out a little smile and Dick isn’t sure if he’s hallucinating again.

“If you do, you’ll regret it.” When did they reach this level where Dick can recognize distinctly when Jason is teasing him and not threatening him? Seemingly in the blink of an eye.

“We’ve been through worse than that, don’t you think?” Yeah, worse things like keeping you from bleeding out and having to stitch your wounds every now and then. Or that time you stayed up all night watching I didn’t drown in my boogers when I was sick.

“Even so, don’t even think about it.”

A sigh later and Dick finds himself asking, “You think they’ll be here soon?” Start a small talk, Dick could do that.

“Why? You feel claustrophobic already?” That damn smirk, why did it fit him so well?

“No, not at all. I just wanna sleep.”

“Don’t you fucking think about it,” Jason threatens him in a harsh tone, and this time he wasn’t teasing him. “If you close your eyes I’ll smack you. First warning.” There is something about his tone that makes Dick wrinkle his brow. Not having a filter at the moment, Dick asks the one thing that has intrigued him for a while now.

“Why do you even bother?” An apparent innocent question, but his words seem to chill to the bone Jason and for a long moment, he stays quiet. It’s not easy to leave Jason with nothing to say. The man always has a comment to make, a complaint to announce, a justification to clarify when he is accused of something he didn’t do. His lack of words puzzles Dick even more, much more than his next words.

“I don’t.”

It’s not his answer, it’s his way of saying it. As if the mere fact of having to make it clear bothers him. His tone comes out aggressive and bitter, nothing like his previous tone of voice. Dick feels his response echoing off the walls. It’s as if the whole vibe they managed to build collapsed with that little question. Almost as if he could see Jason strengthen his walls right here in his face.

Dick has so many questions, but none of them solidifies in his mouth. And when Dick tries to brush his words aside (whether true or not) he finds himself feeling hurt by his admission, which makes absolutely no sense. Why should he be hurt by something as clear as the daylight? It shouldn’t even come as a surprise anymore, but it does. Something bitter spreads across his chest, causing Dick to purse his mouth.

“Good to know.”

For a moment his cold tone of voice almost surprises him, but the thought is fleeting when Jason looks back at him and Dick can’t understand what his eyes are trying to say. If one thing Dick has learned over the years is that Jason expresses more with his body than with his words ever could. But what he finds there is absolutely nothing, nothing but an expression in blank and the kind of silence that says more than a thousand words could. It’s always gonna be like this, isn’t it? Having to crave for answers instead of being rewarded with the truth.

They both stay in awkward silence for a while when they both hear it, the hum of the Batmobile and the sound of sirens in the distance. Damn, perfect timing. Jason brings his right hand to Dick’s communicator on his ear.

“It was about damn time,” Jason suddenly claims to whoever was on the other line. “I don’t know where we are, Replacement. Check our fucking location, geez.” Timmy, that was good. Soon they would get out of here and solve their problem. Soon Dick would rest his eyes for a while. He breathes a sigh of relief.

Everything was going to be okay.

_____________

Or maybe not.

“And that is how it happened.”

For a long period of time in the cave nothing is heard but the distant flapping of bat-wings and the hum from the computers. Dick is aware that what just came out of his mouth makes no sense, and when he tries to get help from Jason, the bastard doesn’t say a word, he just clenches his jaw tighter and keeps still as a statue.

Both had already been patched from their respective injuries (in Dick’s case already medicated with painkillers) and were sitting on one of the infirmary’s cot. Sitting there, Dick felt like a lab mouse. Unable to avoid it, Dick swings his legs dangling from the cot, as if he were 9-years-old again, lost and uneasy.

When silence reaches five minutes, he can’t take it anymore.

Steeling himself Dick looks at his siblings, father figure and the closest thing to a grandfather he has straight in the face, trying to read their expressions and the reason behind their collective silence.

Bruce’s face was blank. With the cowl dangling from his shoulders, the scary aspect of Batman had no weight whatsoever. During the whole explanation, he had looked at the handcuffs as if he had a personal problem with them. Dick had lost count of the times Bruce had touched his face in exasperation. On the other hand, Tim and Damian had similar expressions. Complete and utter disbelief written on their young faces. Alfred hadn’t shown any apparent striking reaction, but Dick had seen the way he had raised his eyebrow at them, the way he implied that nothing could surprise him anymore. Meanwhile, Cass was trying not to smile, and Stephanie chooses that precise moment to burst laughing, as if was the funniest thing she’d ever seen.

The first to come out of his daze is Bruce with the sound of Steph’s laughter, the man pinches the bridge of his nose in an irritated motion.

“So let me get this straight,” Bruce starts to say, finally looking up and meeting their eyes. “A man of unknown identity proclaimed himself a sorcerer, attacked you in an old factory. Jason came as your back-up. You both fought with him and the man bewitched you with some kind of enchantment in the form of, handcuffs, and then threw the whole building on top of you?” When Bruce puts it that way, it sounds ridiculous. “Did I leave something out?”

“He had yellow eyes, don’t forget it.” Dick reminds him as if all of a sudden it was the most important fact he had so far.

“The sorcerer had yellow eyes,” Bruce repeats foolishly, his face twisted into a strange grimace. “And he wore a robe— Are you completely sure it was a sorcerer?” The disbelief in his voice makes Dick roll his eyes.

“Bruce, I just told you that the dude was doing a ritual with dead animals!” Dick exclaims in a high pitched tone and he can clearly hear the outraged huff coming from Damian. “Besides, how do you explain these silly handcuffs which appeared out of the blue? It’s not like Jason and I decided to handcuff for fun. They are glowing, Bruce, can’t you see them?” Dick emphasizes by waving his hand and rattling the handcuffs with a clanging noise.

“I can see them, Dick.”

“Can you? Then why is it hard for you to accept that we were bewitched?”

“It’s not— just ... why would a sorcerer do such thing?” Oh my, was Bruce stuttering? “Bringing down the building on top of you I can understand, but this? We have dealt with magic spells in the past and they have usually been ‘standard’ enchantments; curses, physical alterations, shapeshifting. But I’ve never seen anything like this before.” Crap.

“I haven’t seen anything like it either,” Tim comments scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t understand the reasoning behind doing it. It makes no sense. Maybe he did it as a prank?” Tim asks trying to hide the amusement in his voice with a business-like tone. It wasn’t working. Dick shrugs and that just seems to make Steph grin even wider.

“Sure it is, genius. I can’t believe anyone thought about this prank before, it’s brilliant!” Steph cracks-up again, not even trying to hide her amusement with the situation. Dick rubs his left hand across his forehead, feeling the still headache hammering his temple, and it wasn’t just for the concussion, oh boy no. He was trying so hard not to even switch his right hand. Jason hadn’t said a single word since they’d been pulled out of the rubble, and Dick knew that at any moment he was going to explode, spectacularly and so loud that all of Gotham was gonna hear him.

“Does it look like I’m having fun?” Jason asks calmly, but Dick could see him squeezing the edge of the cot with white looking knuckles.

“No. You look dead inside.”

“I am.” Jason spits and Dick makes a protesting noise when Jason jumps off the cot, yanking his hand in the process. Ouch, that still hurt.

“It does not matter what was the maniac’s reason for executing this spell. What’s done is done. We must find a solution. Father?” When Bruce doesn’t respond immediately, Damian huffs out loud and then with loud footsteps he walks away, muttering that he’s going to fix this on his own. Dick was physically and mentally exhausted to try to stop his little brother from walking away.

“And why did he chain them up in the first place? Can he also see that the two lovebirds are—” Steph starts to say but Cass squeezes her shoulder and shuts her up, shaking her head.

“Steph…” Tim mutters with an apprehensive look on his face.

“Enough. We must see this objectively.” Bruce interrupts them. “Just because the spell appears to be simple doesn’t mean they’re out of danger. In the wrong hands, magic can be unpredictable and dangerous. We have no knowledge of the man’s true intentions, nor how he obtained his powers. It may be a facade for something more sinister.”

“Something more sinister? How about handcuffing me to the most annoying person on the planet? ‘Cause if he meant to drive me crazy the son of a bitch is gonna succeed.”

“Master Jason, no swearing in this household, if you would be so kind.” Alfred unsurprisingly scolds Jason, but it didn’t sound so squeamish as always, if not almost, amused? What was going on with everyone? This wasn’t funny.

“Sorry, Alfie.” Jason didn’t sound the least bit apologetic and everybody knew it. Dick feels his temper heating up again.

“Oh thanks, Jason. As if I was having the time of my life sitting here next to you.” He snarls sarcastically, not wanting to fight but not wanting Jason to get away with saying hurtful comments like that.

“If you were fighting like this in his presence, it’s no surprise he decided to do this. It’s an act of good revenge. Pretty good if you ask me.” Tim comments and Dick runs a hand through his hair.

“Well, no one’s asking you, Replacement.” Jason snarls.

“I repeat, it’s a great prank.” Stephanie insists again and Tim taps her on the shoulder, not completely hiding the smile from his face. “What? It is!”

“And what the fuck did I did to offend him like this?” Jason raises his voice and Steph snorts. “It ain’t fair.”

“C’mon, it can’t be that bad, Jaylad. I bet there could be a thousand worse ways to be bewitched.” Steph says putting her hands on her hips.

“Name 5,” Jason growls and when Steph starts to do beads with her fingers, everyone seems to sign.

“I’ll go and prepare a cinnamon tea for everyone, I feel that a long night awaits us,” Alfred announces softly, placing a hand on his back and walking up the stairs back to the Manor.

When his footsteps disappear up the stairs, the first to break the silence is Tim. “Have you tried picking it with a tool yet?” He asks casually, leaning back on his chair. 

“Of course, the problem is they don’t have a lock, Timmy, and therefore cannot be picked with any tool,” Dick responds heavily and Tim stands up with a thoughtful expression.

“The chain looks so fragile,” Tim mutters as he heads to where they store all their weapons. “There must be something we can do. I know magic doesn’t follow the patterns of science, but there must be a way to break it.”

“They’re magical handcuffs, I don’t think we have that kind of tools,” Stephanie says leaning on the desk.

“To try to find out, we have to try to understand the _why_ first. When? Where? Who he is? What kind of magic does he possess? We must assume that its intentions are not good.”

And out of nowhere Bruce and Steph start arguing about magic. Dick gets lost in his thoughts, blocking their voices. Not that he wanted to adrift in a mental lagoon, but that sounded more pleasurable than being anchored to the reality of their problem.

What if they couldn’t remove the handcuffs?

Dick knew that for Bruce there were no impossibilities and that if it was up to him he would go to the end of the world to find a solution. But even Batman couldn’t solve everything, could he?

Part of him agreed with Steph that it was a prank. It was Halloween night, for crying out loud. People never wasted an opportunity to do evil. Maybe it was just a bad joke and in a few days they would fall by themselves. But a small part of him couldn’t ignore the sensation of warmth sprawling through his wrist, the shiver that ran through his skin as if something else was happening and he was too blind to acknowledge. Dick frowns and looks down at the handcuffs and the faint glow they emitted. His eyes fall on Jason’s hand and how it was inches from his, but at the same time it was far out of his reach.

Dick can’t help but wonder if Jason had felt it, too. If he had felt the chills and the heat flowing through his veins, like some kind of warm, cozy feeling.

Dick hears a throat clearing and then makes eye contact with Bruce. Had those wrinkles always been there? Those grey hairs too?

“Everything okay, Dick?” Dick nods slightly, locking his thoughts under the key and ignoring the heavy stare of Jason on him. “I was asking if other than the obvious, have you felt something odd? Something off?” Dick wanted so badly to hug Bruce, to be a kid again and be wrapped in those arms that seemed to be the solution to everything. But they weren’t anymore.

“Not that I know of.” He mumbles a half-truth. Beside him, Jason lets out a hissing sound. Oh no, here it comes.

“Jason?” Bruce asks tentatively, bracing himself for the reply.

“Just an immense desire to cut off my hand, but nothing else.” In a fit of lack of control, Dick jumps off the cot ignoring all his wounds, limping to be face to face with Jason.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dick jabs a finger at his armoured chest, feeling how Jason stiffens at the contact, but he doesn’t turn his face away, not even when their faces were too close now.

“What do you think, moron? I’d rather he had bewitched us with anything but this!” Being this close, Dick could distinguish the little wrinkles on Jason’s nose and his tight lips.

“Seriously, Jay? Does my company repudiate you so much? You haven’t stopped making shitty comments! Why do you need to let me know every five minutes that you don’t want to be handcuffed to me? You think I do?”

“I don’t give a flying fuck about what you want or not, this is your fault and now you have to deal with me whether you like it or not!” Jason raises his voice, sending sparks of pain all over Dick’s temple. He waves his hands sharply and as he does so, Dick groans, the handcuff digging into the sensitive skin of his wrist.

“Guys—” Tim’s voice echoes in front of them but they both ignore him.

“Why do you keep saying this is somehow my fault?” Dick points to his own chest angrily. Jason had said it before, why keep insisting on the same?

“Because it is!” Dick finally explodes and doesn’t try to bottle up his tone or his next words.

“I only asked for help because I didn’t want to face the sorcerer on my own, okay? I said it, happy? But if I had only known that you would be the one to come, I would never have called for back-up!”

The echo of his own voice makes him wince.

For a swift moment, Dick can see Jason’s face sting with his words, but the hurt disappears as soon as it came, so much so that Dick wonders if his fatigued and concussed mind imagined it. Bruce clears his throat more forcefully, frowning at their hands and when Dick looks down, he can see his wrist red and swollen.

Dick lets himself fall on the cot, exhausted and unwilling to raise his voice again for the remaining time. The others didn’t have to witness their fights; it wasn’t a good example of how conflicts should be resolved. Preach by the example, Dick reminds himself.

Jason looks down at their hands almost regretfully but doesn’t say anything else.

“Yikes,” Stephanie mutters and Cassandra just looks at them like they’re the stupidest dudes on the planet.

“Fighting is of no use to solve this problem, quite the opposite—” Bruce begins to say (hypocritically, because he’s always the first to argue), trying and failing to put some order, though his next words are interrupted when they hear the growl of an electric saw bounce around the cave. Only years of practice allow Dick not to jump out of his seat like a cat.

“Grayson, I shall release you from Todd’s side once and for all so we can proceed with our planned festivities. No third parties involved.” Damian announces, approaching them with the saw raised.

“Get that damn thing off my face, runt!” Jason warns by pulling a taser out of his leather jacket and Damian seems to bristle-like an angry kitten.

“Damian, put the saw down right now!” Bruce barks.

Oh boy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here this is my [tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/nightwing-mar) I share many meaningless things and I am always available to chat.
> 
> No animal was harmed in the making of this chapter. I love all animals, even the *signs* barn owl.  
> Your comments, kudos and bookmarks cheer my soul. Thank you for leaving them ❤.


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